Saturday, November 30, 2019

Isaiah 2:1-5

Isaiah 2:1-5 (NRSV)
 The word that Isaiah son of Amoz saw concerning Judah and Jerusalem. 
In days to come
the mountain of the Lord’s house
shall be established as the highest of the mountains,
and shall be raised above the hills;
all the nations shall stream to it.
     Many peoples shall come and say,
“Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord,
to the house of the God of Jacob;
that he may teach us his ways
and that we may walk in his paths.”
For out of Zion shall go forth instruction,
and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem.
He shall judge between the nations,
and shall arbitrate for many peoples;
they shall beat their swords into plowshares,
and their spears into pruning hooks;
nation shall not lift up sword against nation,
neither shall they learn war any more. 
O house of Jacob,
come, let us walk
in the light of the Lord!

Isaiah 2:1-5 is a passage that many scholars think has more consistency with the period of the early post-exilic authors. What we find here are three sections.

First, we find a superscription. Many scholars think of it as the second superscription of the canonical book of Isaiah that dates from the 400s, which also indicates that it was the original heading of the book. The word that Isaiah son of Amoz saw concerning Judah and Jerusalem. The reference to Judah and Jerusalem leaves aside the undoubted application of many to Northern Kingdom. “Judah and Jerusalem” identifies the locus of the career of the eighth-century prophet “Isaiah son of Amoz,” commonly known as Isaiah of Jerusalem. Other prophets named Isaiah were known, and it was Isaiah-ben-Amoz who achieved biblical distinction. Such patronymic identification of the male is common in the Bible. However, the Old Testament repeatedly identified with his full patronymic both inside and outside the book that bears his name (e.g., II Kings 19:2, 20; 20:1; II Chronicles 26:22; Isaiah 1:1; 13:1; 20:2; etc.). This anchoring of prophetic writings in historical settings had a clear and obvious function: to direct the prophet’s words to his or her contemporaries for a particular purpose (i.e., to condemn injustice or to reassure with a message of salvation). As the development of tradition incorporated prophetic into the biblical canon, the historical anchors often found that superscriptions became less and less significant (or even meaningful) to subsequent generations of hearers. The result was that the faithful community classed their sayings as “timeless truths.” The reality is rather different: Prophetic utterances were not timeless as much as they were timely. 

The use of the verb saw in the superscription — “The word that Isaiah . . . saw” — indicates the broad nature of both the Hebrew word davar, conveniently translated “word,” and also the broad conception of prophetic revelation, which came to the prophets in a variety of forms. Modern hearers of the Bible expect prophets to “see” visions (and they do — cf. Numbers 24:4, 16; Isaiah 1:1; 6:1; Jeremiah 38:22), but visions are also heard in the Bible (Psalm 89:19; Isaiah 21:2; 29:11), and one can also see the “word” of the Lord, as here. The point is that the Hebrew nouns for prophetic revelation function much more flexibly and broadly than our modern conceptions usually recognize. Whether the prophet saw or heard visions or words, the point was that the prophet employed his entire being in receiving and transmitting revelation.

Second, we find a prophetic oracle of salvation about Jerusalem (vv. 2-4). Micah 4:1-4 has only small variations from verses 2-5. The eschatology of the passage looks forward to the glory the Lord will give Zion. In days to come the mountain of the Lord’s house. Here is an expression not frequently found in the OT (occurring here and at II Chronicles 33:15 and Jeremiah 26:18 = Micah 3:12). The more common expression is simply “the mountain of the Lord” (as in v. 3 here and 30:29; II Samuel 21:6; Zechariah 8:3). The form focuses attention on the temple, the object that gave the mountain its religious significance. This passage is an illustration of scripture dealing with how transcendence is compatible with the earthly presence of the Lord. The prophets will speak of God as enthroned in heaven while yet affirming that Mt. Zion is where the house of the Lord stands.[1] The mountain of the Lord’s house shall be established as the highest of the mountains, and shall be raised above the hills; all the nations shall stream to it. The verse envisions a worldwide reign of peace. Many peoples shall come and say, “Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord, to the house of the God of Jacob. We find here an ancient term for God favored especially by the psalmists (e.g., 20:1; 24:6; 46:7, 11; 75:9; 76:6; etc. They will come that he may teach us his ways and that we may walk in his paths.” For out of Zion shall go forth instruction, and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem. The Lord is the teacher, a role the priests had taken. The song of the people will be that God will teach them. The motivation for the pilgrimage is that the Law and the word of the Lord are going forth from Zion. Zion’s elevation to prominence is for the purpose of drawing nations to the locus of divine revelation, here described as God’s “ways,” “paths,” “instruction” and “the word of the Lord.” He shall judge between the nations, and shall arbitrate for many peoples. This passage understands that the righteous will of God of Israel is normative for the nations as well. It expects a future turning of the peoples to the Lord to seek instruction about law from the Lord and hence a settlement of the legal conflicts that divided them.[2] Secular ecumenical efforts to set up a just order of human society without regard for religious differences between people and their cultures may well be plausible to the spirit of modern political secularism. However, they stand in antithesis to the biblical expectation of the reign of God that found early expression in the prophetic picture of the pilgrimage of the people to Zion, as envisioned here, where by turning to the one God the peoples are able to settle disputes.[3] The question of an order of common life that is in keeping with divine realty, and that is therefore truly just and humane, has been the central theme of human history. As Israel saw it, the nations fall short of what is right because they do not know the true God. At the end of the ages, they will make pilgrimage to Zion to learn what is right from the God of Israel and to let the Lord settle their conflicts about this issue, as envisioned here.[4] The aim of the election by God is the fellowship of a renewed humanity in the reign of God. The norm of human relations is the divine justice that settles the conflicts of human rights, giving to each his or her own, and in the way establishes peace among us.[5] Establishing right and peace, which would thus make Zion a focal point for the nations, is the orientation of the messianic hope. The election of Israel serves the will of God on behalf of humanity. One might say that it serves the reign of God in the world for the rule of God for which Israel waits was a rule of right and righteousness. This was what this passage sees in its visionary picture of a future pilgrimage of the nations to Zion so that the God of Israel might end their conflicts by telling them what is right.[6]

Among the primary points here is that judgment and grace are not opposites. Rather, we find them inexorably tied to one another. Divine judgment is corrective, and divine grace is redemptive and restorative. The Babylonian exile is a painful and wonderful example. It would not destroy Judah and Jerusalem forever but would bring them to a place of understanding and repentance, enabling them to see God’s ultimate salvation — not only for themselves but for all the nations. God would forgive their sin and offer them a chance at a new life of peace and prosperity in his coming kingdom. In the same way, God reminds us that our failures are not final when we repent and ask his forgiveness for our waywardness. God’s grace and forgiveness are even more redemptive because we remember where we would be if God actually gave us what we deserved. Judgment and grace act together to keep us focused on God’s future. 

Another point is that God’s eschatological future breaks down the barriers that separate people from one another and offers an opportunity for all people to learn God’s ways and “walk in his paths.” In a world that is becoming increasingly polarized, Isaiah’s vision tells us that, in the end, God has invited all people into the place God dwells. Not all may choose to come, but those who seek God’s instruction and want to be in the divine presence are welcome, regardless of the differences they may have had before. God will be the one who judges between the nations and “shall arbitrate for many peoples” so that all receive and offer justice and peace. Isaiah invites us to imagine a world where God has erased boundaries, and all become one in God’s presence.

The apostle Paul would tell his readers that, in Christ, this was already beginning to happen — that in Christ the distinctions between male and female, Jew and Greek, slave and free (we might add Democrat and Republican, high church and low church, emerging and traditional) no longer matter. What matters is that in the end “every knee shall bow, and every tongue confess” that Christ is Lord (Romans 14:11; Philippians 2:10). In the meantime, we should be looking to connect with others who may be different from us, recognizing that we all have a place in God’s kingdom. 

They shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more. The judgment of the Lord will be to bring peace. The nations shall submit to the Lord by abandoning war. This revelation from “the God of Jacob” will serve as the basis for settling conflicts between nations in such a way that war will become obsolete. Note the reversal of its central imagery — beating swords into plowshares and spears into pruning hooks — appears in Joel 3:10a. The imagery for which the oracle is best known — “swords into plowshares” and “spears into pruning hooks” — occurs only in this oracle (and its doublet in Micah). The vision is of the peaceable kingdom elaborated elsewhere in the book of Isaiah (e.g., 11:6; 65:25). At this early stage in the theme’s development, the prophet employs only the social imagery; in its fully developed form, even the natural environment, in the form of normally antagonistic animals, participates in the eschatological cessation of violence that constitutes the redemption of all creation. Isaiah’s vision of the new heaven and the new earth is the fullest version of that idea in the OT and will significantly influence later, especially New Testament, writings on the subject. Apart from the book of Psalms, the New Testament quotes or references the prophet Isaiah more than any other OT book. 

The relations and rules of mutual recognition and solidarity constitute the legal form of all social life that is meant to last. When authorities deal with all people justly, there comes social peace in our life together. Usually, people feel that authorities do not recognize them. Application of this standard settles all legal disputes among the individuals and peoples, and the resultant mutual recognition results in peace among them, as this passage suggests.[7]

The vision of the prophet for peace stands in contrast to the reality of war. Those who built the foundation of the UN headquarters in New York City had it inscribed there as a constant reminder of the mission of the organization. Beating swords into plowshares and spears into pruning hooks was part of Israel’s daily reality. Micah 4:3 states almost the same as Isaiah, which suggests a common tradition, while the prophet Joel urges the opposite in preparation for war (Joel 3:10). It would have been a rather simple operation for a blacksmith to turn the thick, short sword of the day into the leading edge of a plow or to bend the tip of a spear into a hook for pruning fruit trees. The ancient world was quite familiar with dual-purpose gadgets, and people adapted tools as they had need. We need to cultivate an image of a world where peace and prosperity for everyone pushes aside forever the desire for war. Imagine, for example, adapting tanks to become tractors and guns to become gardening implements.

The African-American spiritual, “Down by the Riverside,” also known as “Ain’t Gonna Study War No More,” has many lyrical variations. Usually, each stanza follows a standard form, with one sentence that differs from one stanza to the next. The song often begins: “Gonna lay down my sleepy head / Down by the riverside (3x) / Gonna lay down my burden / Down by the riverside.” And then the chorus: “I ain’t gonna study war no more / Study war no more / Ain’t gonna study war no more (3x).” Other lines that can appear in stanzas, in place of “Gonna lay down my burden” include:

   Gonna lay down my sword and shield,

   Gonna stick my sword in the golden sand,

   Gonna try on my long white robe,

   Gonna try on my starry crown,

   Gonna put on my golden shoes,

   Gonna talk with the Prince of Peace,

   Gonna shake hands around the world,

   Gonna cross the river Jordan,

   Gonna climb upon that mountain and

   Gonna climb the road to heaven.

 

Third, we find the opening words of the following oracle of judgment about the house of Jacob (v. 5). O house of Jacob, come, let us walk in the light of the Lord! We find a similarity with Joel 3:10. What do the people of God do in light of the gloriousfuture for Jerusalem, the temple, and the mountain of the Lord? Verse 5 is the answer, announcing as it does the future reign of God. The reign has universalistic dimensions. God is judge in the sense of settling disputes so that there will be peace.

There are two times when the hearts and minds of Christians turn toward Israel and Jerusalem quite naturally. One is during Advent and Christmas. The other time is the season of Lent and Easter. The cradle and the cross, bound in a unity just a few miles apart.

Jerusalem. Jews revere it as the city of the great king. Christians honor it as the site of the cross and the empty tomb. Muslims embrace it as a sacred city of Islam — the site of Mohammad’s ascension into heaven on a white stallion. It is a holy city. If you ever take your pilgrimage to that city, I suspect you will find it profoundly moving. To go to the traditional sites of the birth of Jesus, the Temple court, the place of the Last Supper, Gethsemane, the trial, the crucifixion, the burial, and so on, can be a spiritually moving and inspiring event in our lives. 

Jerusalem is also an unholy city. The Wailing Wall is the only part of the Temple from the days of Jesus still standing. The Romans left it standing in order to intimidate the Jewish people. Over the years, it became a place of prayer for Jews. Today, it is an open-air synagogue. One of the meaningful moments for me in the city was when I went to the wall, wrote a prayer on a slip of paper, and placed the prayer in the wall. As I thought of the Jewish, Muslim, and Christian Israelis I met, as I looked at the black marks left from explosives, I could only pray for its peace. 

The unholy aspect of the city comes in for some treatment in a movie from the Spring of 2005, Kingdom of Heaven, as it offers a historical account of what occurred in the 12th century crusades. This Ridley Scott film is about a young peasant blacksmith who becomes an honored knight, saves a kingdom, and falls in love with a princess. It is also about the Crusades. Involvement in the crusades (1096-1291, eight of them) was a ticket to heaven. In the movie, one preacher says to the knights leaving Jerusalem that to kill an infidel is not murder, but the path to heaven. In contrast, the character of Liam Neeson says that they can hope for a kingdom of heaven, a kingdom of conscience, in which Christian and Muslim will live together in peace. At one point, the people in Jerusalem hang the Knights Templar for killing Arabs. One says, “They die for what the Pope commanded them to do.” Another says, “Not Christ, I think, or this king.” The Templar Order, disbanded in 1312, wanted war with the Muslim Saladin: “God wills it,” they shouted. In the battle in which Saladin beat the Crusaders, he beheaded the Crusader leader and dragged it through the streets. Such beheadings were not new. Mohammed himself led armies in war, at one point ordering the massacre of Quarayza Jews by digging trenches and beheading these Jewish people. At the end of the movie, standing among the bodies of hundreds of people, the Orlando Bloom character says to Saladin, the Muslim leader, “What is Jerusalem worth?” Saladin responds, “Nothing … and Everything.” About 900 years later, peace is still elusive for this city. 

The movie offers a look at what might have happened between the Second and Third crusades. Orlando Bloom plays the heroic peasant who becomes a knight and saves a kingdom, and at the heart of the film is the pure, severe code of the knight. “The knight was the cowboy of that era,” says director Ridley Scott. “He carried with him degrees of fairness, faith and chivalry — right action. I think right action is what it is really all about.” Yes, but whose action was right in the age of the Crusades? Was right action that of the Knights Templar, the warrior monks who wanted Jerusalem for the Christians? Was right action that of Saladin, the Turk and Muslim leader who conquered Jerusalem in 1187? Was there anything right about the behavior of these three religious, if not political, entities — Islam, Judaism, Christianity — during the crusading era of the 11th-13th centuries?

It is difficult to watch such a film and not reflect upon what is happening today, not only in the Middle East, but also throughout the world. The three monotheistic religions of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam continue to struggle over this land, and now, in more profound ways, with each other. 

A crusader was so-called because he was someone who took the sign of the cross. The cross was on his shield and garments. In a ceremony, he knelt, and solemnly swore that he would say his vows at the Church of the Holy Sepulcher or die in the attempt. He was a “crucesignatus,” one who had taken the sign of the cross. A crusader. Those who did make it to Jerusalem, made their way to the church, and thrust their sword into the ground, and — staring at its cruciform shape — said their vows. Many of them also died on the battlefield in this way. The last image they saw was the image of the cross.

The film leaves us with a question: Where should we be standing today, as Christians who trace our history back not only to the Crusaders, but also to the apostles? It is certainly true that our Christian history moves from the cross to the Crusades, but it goes far beyond the Middle Ages as well. We have to ask ourselves if we, as 21st century disciples, are closer to the apostles or the Crusaders. Are we showing the world a raised cross or a raised sword? The crux of the matter is this: When people look at us, they should see a Christian code at work. We need to mark everything we do by right action, fairness and faith.

First, we need to be witnesses rather than warriors. Here is the way the risen Lord put it. “You will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth” (Acts 1:8). Jesus promises that they will receive the power they need to continue his work in the world — to speak his words, to continue his healings, to provide leadership to his church. Jesus himself did not pick up the sword, and he did not ask his followers to do so. Instead, the mandate to the apostle is to be martyria, that is, someone who lays down the sword and raises up the cross, a “crucesignatus,” as it were. Such a person is one who “witnesses” and does so not with lethal arms, but with loving arms. Carry my cross into the world, says Jesus.

Second, we need to witness with the sign of the cross. I wish I had kept the news item. When the tsunami of 2004 hit Southeast Asia, the United Methodist Committee on Relief sent aid to the people of Indonesia, the largest Muslim country in the world. A United Methodist Church became the place where they stored the supplies until they could distribute them to the people of the area. At one point, a Muslim approached the Christian workers and said, “Why are you doing this? We would not do this for you.” It gave the worker an opportunity to share with the Muslim that Jesus was the one who showed him how to be generous, even with those with whom he disagreed. Now, how can we take up the sign of the cross in a world so torn apart by terrorism, suspicion of people of Middle Eastern descent, anti-Semitism, and war? I am not a pacifist. In this violent world, countries need to defend themselves. Because American citizens have a share in whom our political leaders are, when the time comes, we will differ as to those from whom we vote.

We will need to fight against our pride. None of us has all the answers. We will need to be open enough to listen to those with whom we may disagree at present. We may come to a better understanding of those different from us. At some point, we will need to place our ideas and anxieties before God in prayer and learn to trust the providential care of God for this world. Many things happen that we do not understand. We do not have the view of this world that God has. We will need to trust.

We will need to fight against our laziness. We may not be able to do much. However, we can become educated citizens and voters. We can learn about why the United Nations created the state of Israel in 1948, why Arabs immediately fought against it, why the UN expanded the boundary of Israel in 1967, why so many Arabs do not think the Holocaust in WWII occurred, and why many do not think Israel should exist as a state in the Middle East. We can learn about the devastating effects of European colonialism in the Middle East. We will need to fight against our laziness by reaching out in compassion and love to this world, even when we have the temptation to withdraw because it is too difficult or to fearful.

We will need to fight against hopelessness. In 2006, I saw the results of a poll in which 78% of Americans believe peace can never happen in the Middle East. Yet, the psalmist is right: pray for the peace of Jerusalem. We must never give up hope, remembering that our hope is not in what human beings do, but in God. As Isaiah reminds us, God is the one who will have all nations learn in Jerusalem what God is about and what God wants. The judgment of God upon the nations will be such as to bring peace. That is what God wants. 

The challenge for us is to behave more like first-century apostles than like 12th-century Crusaders. If we do, we will act as true crucesignati, lifting up the cross, not in the shape of a sword, but as a sign in our daily lives. We will live in peace with one another, we will pursue justice for our neighbors, and we will bind up the brokenhearted, and lift up the downtrodden. In other words, we will adopt the Franciscan mantra: “Preach the gospel at all times, and if necessary, use words.”


[1] Pannenberg, Systematic Theology Volume 1, 414.

[2] Pannenberg, Systematic Theology Volume 3, 463.

[3] Pannenberg, Systematic Theology Volume 3, 48.

[4] Pannenberg, Systematic Theology Volume 3, 492-3.

[5] Pannenberg, Systematic Theology Volume 3, 523.

[6] Pannenberg, Systematic Theology Volume 2, 321.

[7] Pannenberg, Systematic Theology Volume 3, 583.

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